“Feels like the Farm up in here, Dad,” I smile. My heart is exploding with joy.
“I was just thinking Grandma Mary Jean would be so proud,” he replies before needing to turn away for a brief moment.
Gram passed a little over 5 years ago. Prior to that, Friday night was always poppin’ at my Gram’s. Literally. Since I was about 15, everyone went to MJ’s on Friday. My dad, being the second oldest of eight kids, lived within about a 30 minute radius of most of his siblings, and the Farm was smack dab in the middle of most of them.
My sisters and I are the oldest with about a 10 year gap between the rest of the 24 cousins. Most of which gathered with their parents at Gram’s house on Friday night- about 30 people. Of course when I was fifteen that was mostly a house full of babies. However, as time went on, it got a little louder and a little more rowdy. Even in my college years I would stop by the Farm before going out on the town with my friends. It was a lively place full of the best memories, good food, and great company.
And then, last weekend, my parents’ home felt a little like the Farm. One toddler and 4 babies being snuggled up by aunts, grandparents, and great grandparents. Daddies out on the driveway relaxing and socializing. Pizza, apps, and treats shared, all of which were provided by my parents. There were about 17 of us in total. I loved every minute of it, and I know my dad especially did too. I even spotted him recording the event on his phone to send to all his brothers. My Grandmother would be so proud.
Cheers to Friday nights with the ones we love the most.